Novels online

Chapter 243: The Little Boy

Song Laoyao hadn't felt fear in a long time; his fiery temper ensured only others knew what it was to be truly afraid.

Yet, at this very moment, he was afraid. Strangely, inexplicably afraid.

"Could there truly be ghosts in this world? Had that wretched woman really come back for me?"

For some reason, Song Laoyao couldn't help but think of his deceased wife.

Recalling his wife's wide, bulging eyes at the moment of her death, Song Laoyao couldn't help but shiver again.

Once fear takes root in a person's heart, it becomes an unstoppable torrent, consuming their entire being in the blink of an eye.

Song Laoyao was precisely in this state. As fear spread through his heart, the night seemed to grow ever more terrifying. Although he saw nothing and heard nothing, the dread within him did not abate in the slightest.

"Who the hell is lurking back there, acting all shifty? Get out here, you damn coward!"

This inexplicable dread was nearly driving Song Laoyao to the brink. He threw the half-smoked cigarette to the ground, spun around fiercely, and roared at the space behind him.

His furious curses seemed to lend him a burst of courage, yet the chilling sensation on his body persisted.

It was far too eerie!

Tonight's journey felt eerier than anything he had ever experienced. He couldn't bear to stay under the pitch-black sky a moment longer and broke into a frantic sprint towards home.

He had only run a few steps when he felt as if his feet were seized by something. His body stumbled, and he toppled to the ground, his face striking a rock. His two front teeth bit squarely into the hard surface of the stone.

A cry of pain escaped Song Laoyao's lips, followed by a mouthful of fresh blood that he spat out, containing two of his front teeth.

The courage Song Laoyao had just mustered vanished into thin air. Under the grip of intense fear, the meager bravery he had forced upon himself proved utterly worthless.

He lowered his head to look at his feet and immediately let out a pig-like shriek of terror.

"Ah!"

Beneath Song Laoyao, a person had appeared at some unknown time, their body shriveled and deformed. His right foot had just kicked its head, and it was precisely this that had made him trip and lose two front teeth.

After the shriek, Song Laoyao suddenly felt that something was amiss, because he found the person beneath him to be quite strange.

He mustered his courage and adjusted the angle of his phone's flashlight, only to be startled by the realization that the figure beneath him wasn't a real person at all, but a cheap inflatable doll.

"What the f*ck? ! Are you messing with me? !"

Song Laoyao cursed loudly. He seemed to have found his lost courage, violently stood up, and after unleashing another volley of curses, spat a mouthful of bloody saliva at the inflatable doll. Then, fueled by his simmering rage and indignation, he gave the somewhat deflated doll a furious kick, sending it flying.

The slum was notoriously filthy, chaotic, and squalid. All kinds of trash lay scattered everywhere, and all sorts of strange and bizarre things could be found. But encountering an inflatable doll on a night walk—that was something Song Laoyao had never experienced.

The inflatable doll landed face down on the ground with a dull thud. Song Laoyao, still seething with anger, cursed a few more times before continuing his frantic sprint towards his home.

At this point, only returning home could make him feel safe.

What Song Laoyao failed to notice, however, was that the moment his phone's light shifted away from the inflatable doll, the doll—which had been lying face down—slowly twisted its head with a faint creaking sound, an eerie, chilling smile spreading across its stiff face.

If Song Laoyao had witnessed this scene, he would surely have fainted on the spot.

Sprinting all the way, Song Laoyao finally saw lights twinkling in a house ahead. That house, with its warm glow, was none other than his own.

Although Song Laoyao had lived in the slums before, his previous residence was quite lively, with plenty of neighbors nearby—much better than this God-forsaken place he now called home.

But because he had no money and couldn't afford the rent, he had no choice but to move his wife and child here.

His wife had died seven days ago. It was late at night, and the lights were still on, but he didn't find it strange, as there was still a child at home.

Gazing at the light spilling from his home, Song Laoyao's anxious heart finally settled considerably.

The spot where his front teeth had been knocked out was still bleeding. He sucked hard, like a man, then spat it out, and spat several more times, determined to completely clear the blood from his mouth. After that, he walked towards the house with a disgruntled expression.

This was merely a dilapidated rental room, small as it was old.

In this tiny dwelling, the living room was the kitchen, the kitchen was the bedroom, and the bedroom was the living room.

In this respect, it was quite similar to Yang Haoran's current residence, though Yang Haoran's place was still a bit better; at least it had a toilet and a place to bathe. This dilapidated little room, however, had neither.

Before he even stepped inside, Song Laoyao could already see the messy scene within the house from the doorway.

Pots, bowls, and plates were scattered all over the floor, and there was a good deal of undried standing water. A skinny, four-year-old child was curled up in a corner, fast asleep, with only an old, thin bedsheet beneath him.

This child was none other than Song Laoyao's four-year-old son.

A normal father, upon seeing this scene, would undoubtedly feel a pang of heartache. But Song Laoyao was precisely the opposite. Already in a foul mood from having gambled away all his money, and then scared half to death on his walk home in the dark, only to fall and knock out two front teeth, he was brimming with pent-up rage. Looking at the messy room and his sleeping son, he couldn't help but feel a surge of fury.

With a grim expression on his face, he forcefully kicked the child several times. The boy's skinny body trembled violently, startling him awake like a frightened rabbit. Seeing Song Laoyao, who looked grim and had blood at the corner of his mouth, the boy's body involuntarily trembled, his face filled with sheer terror.

The boy didn't speak; he simply stared at Song Laoyao with a fearful gaze, then tried his best to shrink back, hoping to create a little more distance between them.

Unfortunately, his body was already pressed against the wall. No matter how much he tried to shrink back, he couldn't create any more distance from Song Laoyao.

"You little brat, sleeping so comfortably! You don't turn off the lights when you sleep? Does the electricity in this house not cost money? ! " Song Laoyao roared.

The little boy trembled with fright, and large tears rolled from his eyes, yet he dared not utter a single sob.

"Cry, cry, cry! All you do is cry! What are you crying for? ! Get up, you brat!"

The boy still didn't make a sound, but he trembled with his skinny body and slowly stood up under Song Laoyao's furious glare.

"Tell me, what’s going on in this room? ! Why is it such a mess? ! " Song Laoyao roared again.

When Song Laoyao’s wife was still alive, she handled all the household chores. No matter when he returned home, the house was always clean and tidy.

Now that his wife had passed away, leaving behind only their four-year-old son, and Song Laoyao being accustomed to laziness and utterly incapable of tidying a house, he had forcibly assigned the chore of cleaning to his son.

The child was only four years old, a mere toddler who understood little and could do even less. Yet, under Song Laoyao's oppression, his son had managed to keep the house fairly tidy in the seven days since his mother's death. While it certainly didn't meet the standard his wife had kept, it was at least passable in Song Laoyao's eyes.

Tonight, however, the room was a complete mess, providing an immediate outlet for Song Laoyao's already foul mood and pent-up rage.

Seeing the child remain silent, Song Laoyao roared once more.

"Are you mute? ! Speak up!"

"I. . . cooked. . . and ate. . . then I. . . got tired. . . and fell asleep. . . so. . ."

Hearing this explanation, Song Laoyao erupted in a fit of rage. He raised his hand and slapped the child across the face.

Slap!

The slap was heavy, not only numbing half of the little boy's face but also, with its powerful force, sending his head crashing into the wall behind him.